| Salem lifted his shortswords and jumped high into the air, his legs as tight springs. He screamed ferociously as he came down towards Faolin. Kat and Clara continued to fight Faolin, not landing but a single blow. Faolin looked up for a fraction of a second as Salem dove toward him. Fool, he thought, as he deflected one swing of sword after another, his staff still cracking all over. He forgot about my shield. As Salem neared his enemy, his eyes wandered for only a moment to his right. Suddenly, he felt a sudden pressure push against his right side, then was overcome all at once with overwhelming pain; he was flung to the ground, landing hard on his left shoulder. His right shoulder was all but crushed and his ankle and knee fractured and broken. His ears rang painfully as well. What happened? Salem thought, looking up. What did he hit me with? "Salem!" Clara cried, as Kat continued to fight against Faolin. "He is finished," Faolin said. "No mortal can recover from my shield bash. Not even you were able to see it. And before you know it, you will be dead on the ground." "Not a chance!" Kat retorted, keeping her guard up. "Sh-shield?" Salem groaned. "That was a shield? How did you--" "Fantastic, is it not?" Faolin snarled, fending off Kat and Clara's swords. "You didn't even see it. And you'll never see it again. You'll be dead from another of those before you can even first imagine how my trick works." Salem cringed, his insides tenderized in one blow. "You wretched--" he groaned, blood dripping from the corners of his mouth. He then collapsed to the ground. "Don't you idiots see?" Faolin shouted, a tinge of laughter in his voice. "You cannot defeat me; you've come so far, just to realize how weak you are." While the fight between Kat and Clara and Faolin raged on, and Hermione lay bleeding and broken, Salem rolled upon the ground cringing, his right arm and leg in serious agony. He turned his head upon the hard ground to see, through his half-open eyes, the near-completed Sword of Many Parts, laying in the doorway of Faolin's home. I hope they can't see me, Salem thought, crawling toward the sword. If anything, Faolin probably thinks I'm dead. Salem reached out for the unfinished sword, hoping for anything that might help him to live and protect himself. He fumbled with the hilt until he had a firm grip on the handle; the sword, even without the piercing half of the blade, was a bit heavy and over three feet long. He watched the fight many feet away, trying to stand up, even on his horribly injured foot. The instant he rose up, he almost screamed from putting weight upon his right leg. Not but a few feet in front of him, Hermione lay slowly dying, praying quietly as her insides bled internally. "You cannot win this fight!" Faolin shouted, swinging back at Kat as she ran at him. She was struck hard in the shoulder with his staff. Kat stumbled as she was hit, cringing. "Though we are injured," she shouted, advancing toward him, "we will persevere and prevail." Faolin then lifted his right leg, then brought his foot down hard upon the ground. The ground rumbled slowly, then from it came crystal splinters. Short spikes of crystal dove into Kat and Clara's legs, ripping at them, the blood running onto the ground. Both girls cringed and feel onto their knees, their swords laying out in front of them, one hand still on them. "My work here is not done," Faolin proclaimed. "Not until you all have been exterminated. You will pay for what you did to Hritle." It was then that Faolin lowered his hand and, with the magic he could use, removed the swords from their hands; they now hovered about them, whirling about with deadly force. A moment later, Kat's sword, animated by magical energy, slashed down at her. The blade ripped through her clothing and was buried deep in her belly, the hilt only a foot or so in front of her face. Kat's eyes rolled back as she fell backward onto the ground, her bleeding legs in front of her; she collapsed on the ground, her own sword still protruding from her abdomen, blood flowing in all directions. Clara reached out for her in vain, screaming, when suddenly she doubled forward in agony, her own sword suddenly imbedded in her side, the hilt visible from one side, the bloody blade from the other. She then groaned loudly and fell nearly onto Kat, half alive from the mortal stroke. "Are you convinced that I am the victor?" Faolin shouted, half laughing. "You cannot win! And now you will die for what you have done." "Not so!" a voice shouted. Faolin looked up to see Salem, with a broken leg and an incomplete sword, hobbling forward. "What?" he shouted. "What is this? You survived my shield?" "I did, indeed," he groaned. "This fight is far from over. You will never be able to defeat us all. I may not have the last remaining piece of the sword, but I can still defeat you." Faolin laughed. "You are living in a dream, fool," he taunted, Salem still several feet away. Then, suddenly, Faolin clutched his ailing arm once more, cringing. "You can never win!" I have one chance, Salem thought, as Faolin stopped to nurture his arm. I will live to tell about this or die horribly trying. Next page >> |